


No Apologies

by Kamsu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, Smut, Underage Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-07-30 14:11:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamsu/pseuds/Kamsu
Summary: It was hard to know if it was love or pure obsession. Meeting at the Department of Mysteries threw them into series of events, it shaped their lives and tied them together till death or worse.





	1. Curiosity is a Lust of Mind – Thomas Hobbes

She could hear her friends yelling and spells flying around, but there were thick walls between them and she didn’t have any idea how many. It was easy to say that she was lost. Not that she knew much about Department of Mysteries anyway, but it was dark and she simply kept running, trying to get away from the man who had been after her from the minute she step inside Ministry.

But every door seemed to be locked and she kept going in circles. He was just few meters behind her now. There wasn’t really anywhere to hide. She was starting to desperate and her breathing came out shallow and faster.

She was supposed to be the smart one, the brightest witch of her age. She should had tried harder to get Harry see sense and not just charge straight into arms of Death Eaters who didn’t care if they were pretty much children. In their eyes they were enemy as much as Order members. She wasn’t about to just give in and let the scruffy Russian kill her but right now all she could do was to try and blend in with the wall and hold her wand tightly in her hand, repeating every offensive spell in her head that she could think of. She knew that defense wasn’t going to be enough.

“Come out, devchurka, come out.”

Hermione shivered when hearing his voice. It was so low and his accent was thick even though she was sure that he had lived in Britain for three or so decades. But as far as she knew he haven’t gone to Hogwarts. When Daily Prophet announced the news about Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban, Hermione’s first instinct had been to study them. It was just who she was, she needed to know everything she could. Her friends didn’t really understand it but it had saved them more than once, not that they ever thanked her for it.

“It’s just us now, devchurka, there’s nowhere to run. If you come out now, I go easy on you.” He laughed but it didn’t sound like he was having fun, more like he was being bored. It seemed like typical Russian trait to her for men at least. She had been to Moscow and Saint Petersburg more than once with her parents. They had been obsessed to make Hermione a ballerina before she had gotten her Hogwarts letter and it was well known that the best dancers came from Russian so they wanted to go see them regularly. Because of that she could speak some Russian also, but was quite rusty since it had been over two years since her last trip.

“ Yebat' tebya!” Hermione screamed at the man, knowing it was extremely stupid and she most likely just gave away her hiding spot.

But the man didn’t jump at her and no curse came flying at her, only laugher that sounded much more authentic this time.

“That is not something a lady should say.”

_ He was calling her a lady now? _

_ _ “I wasn’t aware that a mudblood could be a lady.” Hermione spat at him, trying to sound more angry than scared.

“I don’t like that word.” Dolohov grunted. Hermione could hear him moving closer now but there really was nowhere she could hide so she stayed as still as possible. “It’s disgusting. Blood can’t have mud in it.”

That made Hermione froze. The man was a Death Eater, saying something like that didn’t really make any sense. Even her school mates weren’t above calling her mudblood. Why would Death Eater think it was disgusting thing to say?

“Then why are you a Death Eater?” Hermione asked quietly. She just had to. She needed to know what other reasons were there since Order and everyone really kept firmly saying that the Death Eaters were about hating muggles and muggleborns.

“I didn’t say I like muggleborns. I just don’t like that name.” Dolohov grunted. It was sort of relief for Hermione. It wasn’t about her liking the idea of people hating her for the fact that she was a muggleborn but it was better than people hating her for no reason at all or for a reason that she just didn’t know. Everything was just so much more easier when you were aware of things, when you were prepared. But in the same time Dolohov didn’t really answer her question.

Hermione didn’t repeat her question no matter how interested she was to know. The saying history is written by victors was very accurate. She really didn’t know anything about the dark side than their hatred to muggles and muggleborns, she didn’t know why they felt that way and she didn’t really know anything about Voldemort either and neither did Harry even thought he acted like he knew everything about his enemy. But no one never told them anything and no one never really seemed to even care. It was all about being right and being the good guy. But for Hermione that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t like she was going to jump to the other side but she needed to know what and why she was fighting.

“Not going to curse again? That’s more like it. Pretty girls shouldn’t curse.”

Being called pretty made Hermione’s skin turn to goosebumps. No one ever called her pretty so it was unreal and having a Death Eater calling you pretty was just creepy. And she never really though her looks as pretty, beautiful or as anything positive really. She was short with no curves and a long curly hair that had a life of its own that she often kept in messy bun to keep it out of the way. She knew that some girls in her dorm were slightly jealous of how skinny she was, but that was because of the dancing. Even thought she couldn’t really dance much anymore she made sure that she stayed in shape. Her legs and arms had proper muscle strength and very little fat, but like many other dancer she was really tiny. Having muscle strength and good aerobic endurance did help in situations like this were you needed to run and hide but for some reason keeping your body in good physical shape wasn’t something witches and wizards really did unless they were quidditch players. To her it seemed ridiculous.

He was moving closer again. Hermione could hear his steps and feel the air thicken around her as she became more and more trapped. She really had chosen a really shitty place to hide. No escape routes, nothing. She was stuck, waiting on what the man might or might not do. She really had no idea what he was going to anymore since all she had expected was to be cursed straight away, what obviously hadn’t happened.

“I can almost see you now.” Hermione wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. But she could almost see him also. Well a dark shape of him in a dark room. Wasn’t much, but she could see where he was and he was close. Close enough that she could smell him. He smelled like whiskey, coffee and tobacco. Basic. That’s what Hermione thought. Her father smelled like whiskey, coffee and tobacco half of the time also. She wondered if he could smell her and what would she smell to him. She never really gotten a hang of using perfumes except for a special events like going to restaurant or ballet with her parents. That was also the only time when she really dressed up or used any makeup, she just didn’t see a point to do that while in school. Most likely everyone would have just laughed at her, told her she tried too hard. Last years Yule Ball was exception but then she had been in arms of someone who didn’t deserve a sloppy looking little girl.

He was right in front of her face now. Hermione could stare straight into his dark green almost black eyes that had a hungry gleam in them. It scared her but also intrigued her the way it shouldn’t have. He was handsome in a scruffy way. Shoulder length hair in ponytail, unkept beard and more tiny scars that she could count. She was also pretty sure that there was a tattoo on his neck, peeking under his heavy robes. She was glad that he wasn’t wearing the Death Eater mask anymore, they weren’t exactly the most appealing looking. 

“You smell like coffee and lavenders.” He answered her unasked question. She wasn’t sure if she liked that because only she couldn’t figure out why he had suddenly said that unless he had read her mind which was unsettling thought. She felt violated even by the idea of someone poking around her head. Hermione was very private person in that matter. It wasn’t easy, thought, when your life or what other people liked to believe to be her life had been all over trashy newspapers. She hardly ever even shared anything with Harry and Ron who were after all her best friends. They didn’t really know anything about her expect for how she was at school and with them. And for some reason she wouldn’t admit to herself she had no intention to ever change that.

“You are even more beautiful when looking this close, Ptichka”, she could feel his hot breath by her ear and it made her whole body shake. She wasn’t sure if it was necessarily a bad thing and that scared her even more. “Why so quiet?”

She looked at him or tried but her eyes didn’t quite make it to his eyes, instead they locked into his tattoo, trying to make sense what it was. When his hand went to touch her cheek and forced her head up she didn’t have a choice but the stare at his eyes. He looked so hungry and she felt really small and fragile then.

“Pretty little thing.” He spoke again and she kept her silence, waiting for him to do something, curse her more likely.

Why did he have to be so close, she thought as his hands went to her hair and face leaned to her neck. She felt herself grow more and more anxious. Slowly his lips were there, on her skin gently first. It was just wrong, but when he got more forceful and nipped at her, a small moan escaped from her lips before she could stop it. Hermione froze. She was scared out of her mind and mostly because she didn’t push the Russian Death Eater away, because she didn’t want to push him away. Get to know your enemy just got a very different meaning. 

He smirked against her skin, knowing her inner struggle and brought his another hand to hold her hips against the wall that she was already pressed against. How convenient. It was also convenient that the second he had stepped into that room hunting her, the door had closed behind him and sealed the room from any intruders. Now what did the Unspeakables use the room for to need such a thing was something he didn’t really want or needed to know.

“You like this don’t you?” He whispered into girls ear. Knowing how much his every move affected her. She was just too much to simply kill or even torture.

Hermione tried to keep quiet but when his hands somehow ended inside her shirt and now traveled towards her chest she couldn’t help but to nod her head. She really, really shouldn’t but there just was something about the man that stopped her from stopping him. She couldn’t find words for it or speak for that matter. Maybe he had cursed her after all, being quiet wasn’t really her, she was always ready to argue and have decent conversation, not that she had many of those since her friends didn’t really talk much about anything but quidditch, what was one of the few subject that she had no interest or proper knowledge of.

“Did you curse me?” After few minutes she finally found her voice, but Dolohovs hand had also reached to her bra and the another one was holding her hair tightly as he make sure that her neck would be covered in bruises when she got out of there, if she got out of there that was.

He laughed and bit harder down her neck, making her moan even louder. Who knew that she liked to be bitten. Before this she only had few sweet kisses from Victor Krum who was too much of a gentleman to even properly kiss her.

“No, Ptichka, I didn’t curse you.” He whispered and liked his way to her earlobe before taking a bite out of it too. “This is all you. I should kill you, Ptichka, but I can’t.”

She was afraid to ask but she had to. “Why can’t you kill me?”

He grunted and pressed his lower half to her pelvis, showing her how much effect she had on him. “Because I want more.”

She didn’t allow herself to ask what did that mean, she could guess but how much more did he want? Again she moaned as he pressed his hard on to her but this time she didn’t just stand still, she quickly placed her hands on his hips like they had always been there and pulled him more closer to create friction. It was his turn to moan as well as smirk. He forced her head to turn towards her and brutally smashed his lips against hers, biting them and making them open up for him. He didn’t ask for permission but in the end he wasn’t going to take anymore than what the witch willingly, even thought maybe persuaded, gave him. Unlike his fellows he wasn’t a rapist, he didn’t enjoy making someone scream from fear and fighting him, he wanted response and screams of pleasure.

He surprised her by slipping his hand out of her shirt and just ripping it open quickly before pulling her legs around his waist so he could get even closer. He kept pulling her hair to give him better access to her mouth. He didn’t hold anything back and he had no desire to let go. His grip was bruising and for some reason that made Hermione moan even more. She was terrified of how she was feeling but didn’t want it to stop. She wanted more.

It was all so new to her. She never really even touched herself before, she never had that need that her roommates had talked about. When they had whispered about hot kisses and blowjobs in broom closets, Hermione had shut her ears and went back to her books. It didn’t mean that she didn’t know anything about sex, she was too smart for that. Her mother had given her the talk when she was fairly young and after that she had educated herself via several different types of books. The naughty ones her mother hid behind her closet and the ones you could borrow from the library. But knowing something and experiencing something were so different. And no matter how much she loved books, experiencing was starting to be much better.

“Tell me what you want?”

*

When Hermione woke up she knew exactly where she was, the hospital wing of Hogwarts, but how she had gotten there was another thing completely. The last thing she remembered was the Dolohov’s husky voice asking what she wanted. Her face got red from just thinking the man. What happened? Had she gone further with him or did he do something to her so she wouldn’t remember? Did someone find them?

How in the world had she gotten into that situation in the first place? Snogging a Death Eater hadn’t exactly been the plan when she followed Harry to the Ministry. She was quite sure that he hadn’t cursed her to do anything but she had still felt compelled, like someone had taken over her body and guided her to him before drugging her till she was addicted.

If anyone found out she would be send to Janus Thickey ward if not to Azkaban for fraternizing with a fugitive, and no one would ever trust her again. She would be a traitor and a pariah. 

“Miss Granger, I see you are awake.” Madam Pomfrey stalked towards her and Hermione felt anxious. Would the other witch know how she had gotten out of the Ministry? “How are you feeling?”

It took Hermione some time to answer since she really wasn’t sure how. Nothing was hurting, mostly she was just confused and tired. But she guessed that there was a reason why she was in the hospital wing and not in her dorm. “I feel fine.”

Madam Pomfrey gave her a stern look before smiling. “That’s good. Technically there’s nothing wrong with you, but.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “There is a large purple scar that starts from your collarbone and goes all the way to your hip. We have no idea what had caused it since the spell used is very much unknown to even Professor Snape. He did confirm my suspicion of it being done with dark magic but what is odd is that no matter how large the scar is there is no actual damage done to you. All your organs are in good shape as well as your magical core. You are in perfectly good health. I know that to young girl like yourself, a scar like that can be upsetting but you will just have to get used to it, since we don’t know what caused it, we won’t know if it will go away.”

Hermione stared at Madam Pomfrey without showing any emotions. She wasn’t exactly worried about what the scar would look like on her like Madam Pomfrey had suggested, she was more unsettled about the fact that it seemed to be harmless? What exactly had Dolohov done to her? It had to be him but why curse her if not to harm her? Or maybe it worked slow and would kill her in next week or maybe month if not even year. She wouldn’t put it past him. Hermione realized that Madam Pomfrey was waiting for her to response.

“Um. Could I maybe see it?” That was a normal teenage girl reaction, right?

“There is a mirror in the bathroom. But be quick and then back to bed. I would like you to stay here for another night and see if anything changes now that you are awake.” Madam Pomfrey rushed toward the bathroom, hoping it would make her come out faster also.

She carefully removed her hospital gown and only then realizing that she was actually naked beneath it. And didn’t Madam Pomfrey mention something about Professor Snape? Burying the thought of her professor seeing her naked into the furthest corner of her mind she looked at herself in the mirror. Just like Madam Pomfrey had said; the scar started from her collarbone and went vertically down between her breast before ending to her hip bone. It was dark purple and now that she looked at it, she could feel the dark magic that pulsed from it. She let her hand trace it and felt like tiny electrical shocks burst against her fingers. It didn’t hurt. In some twisted way it felt good if anything. Her breathing got shallow as she tried to figure out what was its purpose. And as she thought of the encounter with the man, the part she could remember. The part where his husky voice whispered naughty things to her ear and his large, strong hands gripped her hips and his mouth devoured hers. Not thinking about it was becoming very difficult.

“Miss Granger! I want you back in that bed within two minutes.” Madam Pomfrey’s familiarly stern voice commanded behind the closed door.


	2. Chapter two- "Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes" Marquis de Sade

It had been three weeks since school had ended and Hermione had never felt more out of the place. The minute she had stepped into her parents home she had gotten into a heated argument with them. Apparently Professor McGonagall had taken into her hands to inform her parents about the scar and how she had gotten it via breaking into the Ministry. Hermione didn’t really understand why her Head of House had thought that would be a good idea to do and why now. In her second year she had been petrified for months and no one contacted her parents then. Professor McGonagall also thought that it would be a good for her parents to know that she would be called to questioning in some point of the summer because of what happened to Umbridge. Apparently when the dreadful witch was found she immediately pointed her finger to Hermione. Hermione had known that there was a possibility that she would be blamed, but she had also thought that there was a much larger change of Madam Umbridge never walking out of the forest and secretly she had hoped for the latter.

Now she and her parents avoided each other since they just didn’t have anything nice to say. They were disappointed of how far their perfect daughter had fallen and blamed the wizarding world and witchcraft for it.

Hermione spent most of her days sitting outside in shade and reading. For days she had felt that there was someone watching her. Not because she could actually feel the eyes on her, but because she could feel someone else’s magic lingering in the air. As far as she knew there wasn’t any other witches or wizards living near them and she hadn’t felt it before, but something about the magic felt familiar. Maybe she should have been more worried, but she simply didn’t care. She missed magic and the presence of it made her feel more home.

Never before she had looked at her parents and thought how muggle they were or how much she didn’t belong there. Spending previous holidays and summers with the Weasleys had helped with her desire to be closer to magic and it had helped her to keep her distance from her parents from situation like this from happening, but Weasleys were different from the other magical families and it just never felt quite right there. They didn’t have any appreciation for magic, they took it all for granted and shamed all the traditions that Hermione found the most amazing and fascinating. People like Weasleys were the reason why purebloods had first started to hate muggleborns. They didn’t want muggleborns to learn their traditions and help them to fit in to their world, they wanted their world to fit with the muggleborns. It wasn’t that Hermione wasn’t grateful for the Weasleys for accepting her into their home and family, but it had never felt completely right.

Whoever that was watching her now however felt right and she craved for that feeling, belonging. But it did scare her since there really hadn’t been any other magical beings in the neighborhood before and in back of her mind she had her suspicion of who it might be. There wasn’t much she could do about it so she would just have to wait and see what would happen. She could maybe write to Order and tell them that the was a possible Death Eater creeping on her, but they rarely were interested on anything she said. They were all so focused on Harry, even thought he had been dumbed to Dursleys, again. You would think that if you were actually concerned about him, you wouldn’t leave him with people who didn’t even bother to feed him. Thankfully Hermione knew that Mrs. Weasley would be sending Harry some food, but again that wasn’t really taking proper care of someone she claimed to love, but more of attempt to clear their conscious. 

She locked thoughts backed to her mind and let herself be dragged into the world of Dostojevski. The Idiot was one of her favorite books of all the time. 

“Is it true, prince, that you once declared that ‘beauty would save the world’? Great Heaven! The prince says that beauty saves the world! And I declare that he only has such a playful ideas because he’s in love!”

*

Hermione knew that leaving the house wasn’t maybe the best idea, but after another fight with her mother, she just couldn’t stay there anymore and not actually having a place to go she ended up wandering around the muggle streets of Kensington. 

“I forbid you from going back, Hermione. Those people have made my daughter something that I don’t even recognize anymore! We can fix it if you would just stay home.” It was always the same thing. Her mother telling her not to go back to Wizarding world, saying that she didn’t really belong there, that they were just trash who had corrupted her. And Hermione yelling back at her; that she was one of those people, that she was a witch and there was no changing it. And if they tried to stop her from going, she wouldn’t come back anymore. 

Hermione always had trouble keeping eye on her surroundings when she was angry so it wasn’t much of a surprise to her, when she literally walked into someones hard chest. Without looking up she started to apologize and collect the things she had dropped. She didn’t carry around much, not like her mother did who always had a huge handbag filled, Hermione only had a small clutch that she kept some money and other essentials in. 

“I have waited for you.” The man whose chest she had walked into said with a very familiar Russian accent. Hermione knew now exactly who it was, but refused to look at him. She wishfully thought that if she closed her eyes he would just disappear, but when she did that her head filled with images from the night at Department of Mysteries. How his hands had traveled her body and how his lips had tasted, the way he had spoken to her. 

“You are not here.” She whispered and tried to turn around to walk away, but he of course grabbed her arm to stop her. Without saying anything he started to lead her off the main road towards a empty alley. Hermione didn’t have any willpower to stop him, she knew that if she tried she would probably just end up breaking her own arm. 

Hermione knew that she should have been scared, terrified, but she felt numb. She didn’t think she wanted him to be there harassing her, but she didn’t exactly think it as the most horrible idea either. There is something wrong with me, she thought. 

When they entered the alley, he quickly pulled her tightly to his chest and apparated them. Hermione didn’t fight it at all, just let him take them. When she felt like she was stuffed into a small pipe and everything around her was turning, she tried to look at him, see if his face could tell her anything about his intentions. It did not. His eyes were blank, as they had been before.

They quickly ended up somewhere that Hermione didn’t recognize. It did look like a hotel room, a fancy muggle hotel room. 

“Where are we?” She asked him carefully, almost sure that he wouldn’t answer, but he did.

“Bvlgari Hotel.” That was unexpected. 

“And why are we here?” 

He didn’t answer, but looked at her before pulling her closer again and pressing his lips against hers, hard. His hands were quickly in her hair, making sure she wouldn’t resist. Which she didn't. She melted right into that kiss with a tiny moan. Her own hands were holding onto his button up shirt, which again was surprisingly muggle. 

He guided her towards the bed, never letting go of her and slowly laid her down to it. He was being so gentle that it made Hermione mad. She wanted him to stop being careful and take what he wanted. It was obvious why he had brought her here, to finish what they started at the Ministry, so why couldn’t he just do that? 

He gently nipped her neck as she tried to rip his shirt off, but he didn’t let her, just laughed at her and caught her wrists to his hands, holding them above her head. He kept whispering things in Russian that made Hermione blush. She wasn’t sure if he remembered that she could understand him. She had always thought that her first time would be scary and with someone much younger than what Dolohov was, but in the moment she couldn’t imagine anything else and her feelings were far away from scared. Her mind was going blank, all she could see was him top of her, teasing her. 

When he finally started to take her clothes off, Hermione let out of a long hold breath. Her core was almost hurting because of how much she needed him. He paid no mind to her obvious despair, but continued to worship her body with his lips and hands that were traveling south. Hermione was begging him, feeling slightly ashamed of herself for doing such a thing. She didn’t know what to do with herself, he wasn’t allowing her to touch him in anyway and he still refused to take his own clothes away. All she could do was lie there and breath harshly as his tongue slipped somewhere that no one had ever touched and where she had wanted him weeks ago to touch. He finally acted like he had then, his hand took a tight hold on her hips as they kept her legs open as she without realizing tried to close them, he bite down on her tights the way that would definitely leave a mark and took a deep breath of her scent. He first tasted her slowly, savoring her, but quickly his actions became more harsh. His beard tickled as he worked her harder and Hermione couldn’t help herself as she moaned under him, not able to stay on place, her hands took hold of the headboard and her back curved. When his fingers finally joined his mouth, blunging into her harshly, without giving a thought to the fact the girl he was devouring was in fact a virgin and not used to such a thing, Hermione let out a whimper that told him how close she was. He worked faster till she finally stopped shaking and tried to calm her breath. 

“Why?” She asked, her voice raspy from the sounds she never thought she could make.

“Why what?” 

“Why could I not touch you? Why did you only please me?” It took a lot of courage from her to get those words out. It wasn’t something she never had to ask before and sex wasn’t really a thing she talked about anyway.

He looked at her and Hermione suddenly felt very naked. She covered herself with a sheet, not bothering to find her clothes. “You are not ready.”

He ordered them some food that they ate in complete silence, only looking at each other. His face was so hard to read, it just didn’t give anything away and Hermione wasn’t sure why was she still there. Did he had enough and would he kill her now? She couldn’t remember if he had told her what he really wanted from her? Why was he willing to dirty himself with a mudblood. Hermione never asked about the scar, which he had obviously seen as he had seen everything of her. And he didn’t tell her either. But when she left, she knew that she was going to come back. 

At least till he would finally fuck her or kill her.

*

“Please state your full name address and know that this conversation will be considered as evidence if it is necessary.” The Auror who himself had yet to introduced himself asked, no commanded her. 

It was the early August when she had been summoned to the Ministry to be questioned by the Aurors. She didn’t tell her parents knowing their reaction already since their relationship over the summer hadn’t gotten much better. She had just walked out without saying anything and called the Knight bus. They barely spoke anymore and Hermione made sure to spend most of her time out of the house, either she stayed in coffee shops reading or in random hotels with Antonin. She still didn’t quite understand why did he lower himself to stay in muggle hotels or why she was still even alive. Was she really that entertaining? 

“Hermione Jean Granger.” She held her head high and tried not to care about the hard looks the Aurors were giving at her. There were three of them in the room. Did they think that she was going to attack them or why did it take three Aurors to question a seventeen years old girl? “Holland Park 13 B, London.” 

“I am Auror Jenkins, next to me is Auror Dawlish and by the door is Auror Felt. We will be questioning you about the events that happened on 18th of June 1996. Do you understand?” 

Hermione took a deep breath before answering, “Yes, I understand. What I do not understand is that why was I not allowed to have a solicitor present?” 

When she had gotten the letter to visit the Auror office she had been horrified. It was something she knew was coming, but her encounters with the Ministry of Magic haven’t been the best, so it left her with uncertainty. But when she had read that she would be questioned alone and she could not have a solicitor or anyone else present, Hermione had panicked. How exactly was she going to defend herself against possible attempted murder charges on her own? She sure was familiar with the law, but aside from watching some crime tv-shows with her parents, she didn't know anything about criminal defense.

“This is just a questioning, there is no need for a solicitor, Miss.” Auror Jenkins told her. He was a tall imitating man who watched Hermione without blinking. 

“Didn’t you just say that this conversation can be used as evidence? I think that gives me a perfect reason to have my lawyer with me, especially when I am not familiar with my legal rights.” 

“Miss, don’t make this difficult.” Dawlish growled from his corner. “You really don’t have any reason to be worried, we already talked with Dumbledore, just need your side of things so we can forget this whole mess.”

That really was a relieve. She had know idea what Dumbledore might have said, but she assumed that he wouldn’t have lied. Dumbledore was happy to twist the truth, but never lie, for greater good of course. It was one of his best and worst qualities. Sometimes Hermione couldn’t figure out if Dumbledore was really just as bad as the Dark Lord. He didn’t seem to care much about how the things were done as long as the results were what he wanted. He was always willing to sacrifice to who were easy targets and had no more use to him. What did that really make him?

“Right, then. Please start with why did you decide to lead Madame Umbridge, former Headmistress of Hogwarts to the Forbidden Forest.” 

Wait? Did they not know that Harry had been with her? 

“We were in her office and had tried to use the floo network because Harry was worried that his friend was in danger. Madame Umbridge caught us and assumed that we had been talking with Headmaster Dumbledore. Since Dumbledore was a fugitive at the time, she decided to interrogate us and asked Professor Snape to give her Veritaserum, but he said that there wasn’t any anymore that she had used it all. When we denied of speaking with Dumbledore and Harry refused to tell who he had tried to contact, I believe Madam Umbridge said ‘Maybe cruciatus will loosen your lips’.” Hermione started with her story. She didn’t really see a point about lying, especially if she could accidently get Umbridge herself into trouble.

“Are you saying that Madam Umbridge threatened to use cruciatus curse on a student?” Jenkins yelled at her and all the other Aurors jumped little closer to her. “That is a very serious thing to say.”

“Well, I didn’t just decide to take her for a walk to the Forbidden Forest without a reason. And yes, she did exactly that. And I think she was serious, considering everything else she had done.”

“And what would that be?” Auror Felt spoke for the first time. He was very quiet comparing the other two and didn’t seem too sure if he could even ask her questions. 

“Using blood quill and veritaserum on students, first years included. I was under impression that both of those actions are illegal.” Hermione smiled sweetly. It was a reach, Umbridge would maybe get a warning and a bruise on her ego, but it did make Hermione feel better.

All the Aurors looked at each other, not quite sure if they should believe her or not.

“We will look into that. Please, continue on telling how and why did you take Madam Umbridge to the forest.”

“When she threatened Harry and I believed her threat to be real I came up with a plan, not a good one, but a plan anyhow. I told her that it was indeed a Dumbledore who we had been speaking to and he had told us to guard the secret weapon that was hidden in the forest. She of course wanted us to show it to her, so we did. But since there wasn’t actually a weapon we just kept walking till the centaurs came and she unfortunately insulted them. I’m sure you know how centaurs react to insults.” Hermione continued with her story and she made sure not to leave anything out. Even when they said that she was only being questioned to get the whole thing out of the way, she still wasn’t ruling out the fact that in a way she had unintentionally attempted a murder and she wasn't going to perjury herself top of that, if that was even a thing in Wizarding law.

“We know. Did you plan the running into centaurs?” 

“No, I did not. There however is a half-giant in the forest that I hoped would turn up and maybe scare Umbridge, he wouldn’t actually hurt anyone.” Hermione hated that them thing. Wouldn’t hurt anyone they said, rubbish. It was a giant, he barely understood human language and had no control over his strength how could anyone know if he was going to hurt someone or not. Hagrid was absolutely mad for bringing him to Hogwarts. After the three headed dog and dragon, Hermione had thought that the man couldn’t do anything worse and she could just keep her mouth shut about him, but a giant had topped it all. She wasn’t going to risk herself getting smashed the next time someone sent them to the forest. There was always going to be a next time, she had learned after spending so much time with Harry and Ron. 

“A half-giant?” The young blue-eyed Auror asked nervously. Why was he even in here or an Auror for that matter?

“Yes, the Gamekeeper Hagrid's half-brother. He graciously saved the poor thing from being beaten to death by his other siblings.” Hermione was getting quite good at smiling nicely and speaking with slightly higher and girlier voice that sounded so damn innocent that she felt actually disgusted with herself.

“Merlin. Miss Granger, I feel that you have given us more questions than answers.” One of the Aurors pointed out obviously frustrated. “if you would please see yourself out and we will contact you later.” 

“Good day, sirs.” Hermione smiled at them before walking out fast. She wasn’t about to let them chance to change their minds, after all they haven’t even asked her why did she speak about ‘we’ when they only asked about her. Since she didn’t have a defense plan she had thought that distraction could be the next best plan. She didn’t feel bad about putting Hagrid and Umbridge on the line since there was a chance of ending up in Azkaban and she really liked to avoid that as long as she could, preferably forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's pretty obvious that this is one of the first times that I'm writing smut so please be patient with me. Thank you for all the comments and kudos in the last chapter.


	3. “Knowledge gives you power, but character respect.” Bruce Lee

“You been keeping secrets from me, Antonin.” His Lord and Master pointed out after all the others had left them. When Antonin had been asked to stay, he knew exactly what is about. He didn’t feel that worried, his Lord knew him well and he knew his Lord. They had met when he had been very young and his Lord had been traveling around Russia. Officially he had been reacherhing Slavic Magic, but Antonin knew that he had also been there to recruit soldiers to his army. In which he had been very successful. 

Antonin was one of the few who knew what Lord Voldemort had previously been called, he thought himself to be very privileged. In early days he had considered his Lord as his friend and in a way he still did, of course Lord Voldemort was not his friend, but Antonin liked to think that his position next to his Lord was different from likes of Malfoy, who would grovel pathetically at his feet and beg for mercy. Antonin did not do that, he had no need to do that. When he had first met Tom Riddle the man had been charming, manipulative little bastard with a world changing plan. Antonin had thought that he was mad, but more they talked, more he came to respect him, even love him. Antonin knew that his Lord was very different now, his views were much more radical, his methods were close to genocide and purely vicious and his state of mind wasn’t quite there. But he still believed in his Lord, he believed that no matter how much he had changed he still remembered how he had been and why Antonin had followed him in the first place. Antonin wasn’t unreplaceable, but he was the only one Lord Voldemort could talk to as Tom Riddle. And sometimes his Lord needed just that, to have someone who grounded him and forced him to remember. 

“I do not wish to do so, my Lord.” Antonin said truthfully. He had no intentions of hiding the mudblood from his Lord. “From the very beginning I have shared my views with you, I seek to act on those views. My Lord, please forgive me for being so weak.” He didn’t really think himself as being weak, but in his Lords eyes everything that concerned feelings made you weak. Lord Voldemort was above feelings or he liked to think he was at least. 

“I know your views Antonin.” He knew that Antonin didn’t follow him because he wanted to get rid of muggleborns, he followed him because he despised muggles and what they threat they posed. He thought that muggleborns were dangerous species because they brought muggles closer to their world, but same time muggleborns were in same amount of danger as anyone else, they were part of their world because they had magic and if they were banished from their world the danger of exposure would only rise. And if they killed all the muggleborns there would just always born knew ones and in reality there were more muggleborns and half-bloods than purebloods these days.

Antonin wanted total separation, he wanted muggleborns to be taken to their world on early age and have them completely separated from muggles. He truly didn’t care that much about blood, he cared about their safety and their future. If anything half-bloods were the ones that should be punished because they voluntarily brought the danger on them, muggleborns didn’t have a choice on it. 

“My Lord?”

“You have one year to convince me.” Lord Voldemort announced. One year would be plenty of time. The girl didn’t fight him, but turning her wouldn’t be easy. “You will bring this girl to me in the spring and then I shall decide. Do not disappoint me.”

“Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord.” Antonin gave a small polite bow before leaving the room. Even thought he had every faith that his Lord would understand he still felt relieved and let out a breath he had been holding.

Now he just needed to find a way to make sure that Hermione would never want to leave his side. He could just take her and lock her up or force to bond to him so she couldn’t leave, but he didn’t want that. He wanted her to be as obsessed of him as he was of her. He assumed that even thought Hermione wasn’t like other girls she would appreciate gifts if they were interesting enough. Gaining her appreciation would be a place to start. 

*

“Are we going somewhere?” Hermione asked him when she saw him wearing much more formal clothing than he usually did. It wasn’t a regular formal robe, but a more like a military styled black suit with gold fastenings and a knee length leather jacket.. 

“To Moscow,” he didn’t bother to explain any further. He knew that she would go with him anyhow. “For a ballet.”

“I don’t have anything to wear,” Hermione wasn’t a type of person who complained about her clothes, but she understood when it was required to look a certain way and ballet wasn’t really something you showed up wearing jeans and a oversized jumper.

“I got you something, it’s on the bed” 

“You did what?!” She wasn’t sure how comfortable she was about him buying her things. Taking her to another country to see something she loved was a thoughtful and very generous gift, but buying her clothes made her feel like she was being bought. And maybe she was. She still didn’t understand their relationship, he wouldn’t tell her, even thought she could see in the way he looked at her that he knew exactly what he was doing and what she was to her. 

Hermione was very aware that he could destroy her any second and she should run, but still she made no move to leave. She felt like a fool that was falling in love with someone dangerous, but same time she knew it wasn’t really love, it was obsession and lust. And if it someday did turn into love, it would eat her alive. She tried to convince herself that she could leave anytime and there was no real danger, expect for the fact that the man she was becoming more and more addicted to was a known Death Eater, but in the end she knew that she was lying to herself. Still it made no difference. She wasn’t ready to even try stepping out, to see if the man would let her. He must have done something to her head, she told herself, but didn’t dare to ask him, not again. 

“Hermione.” Antonin grunted and shoved her towards the bedroom. 

“Fine.” Hermione breathed out. “What ballet is it?”

“Swan Lake,” it was her favorite, how he knew that was a different case. Hermione was sure that they have never talked about ballet in any specific way other than it being one of the reasons she spoke Russian. 

“You want to go to a muggle ballet. To another country. Isn’t staying in a muggle hotel enough?” Hermione laughed. She still wasn’t over the fact that he was staying in luxurious muggle hotel, even when she had been going there daily for weeks now. She just couldn’t stay away, but also she just wanted to run from her parents and his arms were great distraction. Too great. 

“It’s not a muggle ballet. Tchaikovsky wasn’t a muggle, joku venäläinen lempinimi.” Antonin wasn’t man who talked much, he used only few words and hardly ever full sentences if he could. Hermione found it same time frustrating and refreshing. After having to listen her friends rambling about nonsense, it was nice to listen someone who only spoke when he actually had something say and somehow it made her feel special to be one of the few who he actually did sometimes speak in full sentences and more. She of course couldn’t really know if he was same with others than he was with her, but she liked to savor a thought that because of how much time they spend together she wasn’t just another girl on the list and she desperately hoped that she was the only girl on the list as it was an other thing they never really talked about. “There aren’t really many wizarding hotels a escaped convict can go. I do plan to buy a house soon, just need to find a way to transfer my assets from Russia to here.”

“Tchaikovsky was a wizard? Who else?” 

“Debussy, Bach, Dostoevsky, Machiavelli.” He told her without a care.

“I feel cheated.” And she really did. All the years she had listened to her friends laughing at her for still loving certain muggle things to only find out that they aren’t muggle at all. It did however make it very clear how much her friends knew about higher culture if they didn’t ever correct her when she told them about the concerts she had went with her parents or the books she had read over the summer. 

“Go put that dress on.” Antonin ignored her small outburst and pushed her towards the bedroom of their rooms.

“How are we getting there?” She asked as she made her way towards the dress that was neatly laid on the bed. It was gorgeous mid-night blue gown with a sculpture like corset top and a flowy, light skirt. Next to it was a goat skull shaped diamond necklace that was far too expensive for her, but she knew better than comment on it after agreeing to wear the dress already. She however did want to make a comment about the goat skull since it wasn’t exactly a traditional thing to wear especially since goats symbolized satanism that had been banned in Wizarding Britain for century and could lead to death sentence. It was believed that those that served satan were given gifts by him and that those gifts were the reason Dark Arts existed. She made herself a note to ask about it later and slipped herself into the gown without a word.

“A Portkey.”

“Aren’t those controlled by Ministry?” She knew they were, so it was a stupid question to ask.

“Malfoy got it.”

“Of course. Must be nice to have friends in high places when you are running from the law” 

“We are not friends.” He protested. Malfoy was just like his peacocks. Something shiny and beautiful from the outside but completely rotten from inside and Antonin hated that. He was very aware that he was just as rotten but he didn’t hide it and pretend to be something else. He didn’t pretend to be better than anyone else, he was better or he wasn’t. 

“What are you then?” Hermione asked. She hadn’t exactly thought of them being friends, it was figurative speech but they did have some kind of relationship for Malfoy to acquire them a portkey and them both being in inner circle.

“Comrades.” It made sense. 

*

Antonins hand slipped inside Hermiones dress, caressing her thigh.

“Antonin, anyone can see!” Hermione hissed at the man next to her.

“There is a privacy charm, you can’t see into the other boxes. They can hear us thought, so you better be quiet ptitsa ” He smirked at her. 

They were in sitting at the top in a private box. Hermione had been to the ballet many times but this was very different. It horrified her to say it but it was magical. The dancing and the music was full on magic and life that it was just beautiful. But she in the end she didn’t really see that much dancing with Antonins hands under her dress and his lips on her neck. 

In the end it turned out being quiet wasn’t Hermiones strong suit. 


End file.
